


Lab Assistant

by zombified_queer



Category: Bugsnax (Video Game)
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Minor Body Horror, Other, POV Second Person, Rwader is The Journalist, Self-Experimentation, self awareness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:20:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29796633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombified_queer/pseuds/zombified_queer
Summary: Floofty has a hard time finding a decent assistant on Snaktooth, but you'll do.
Relationships: Floofty Fizzlebean & Reader, Floofty Fizzlebean/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 47





	Lab Assistant

Floofty's hunched over their test subject. It looks like a Strabby. Or, well, the remains of one. The leaves are picked off, examined carefully under a microscope.

"You again."

You ask how Floofty could possibly know it's you and not any other Grumpus.

"Because you linger around here. Like a lost animal. Also, you have an unusual gait I would love to study at a later time." The whole time, they stay focused on their work with the microscope and scalpel. "I'm certain your bone structure is something of a mystery."

You think that's an insult. Maybe. You're never really sure with Floofty. Sometimes they sound so cynical but it's a well-meaning if poorly phrased compliment. Other times it's just an outright insult.

"I suppose you're here to ask about my research."

You point out there's not much to talk about. Floofty's not one for small talk. In fact, you don't even know their favorite color or star sign or anything.

"Maroon. Gemini. And if you're going to ask, then the words will simply go right over your head about my research."

So that's why Beffica made a comment about Geminis and social dumpster fires. You shrug and ask for the short version.

"Bugsnax are parasitoids. Any and all regenerative qualities are outweighed by the Snax resulting in death for the host." Floofty makes some notes, prods with the scalpel, and finally looks at you. “A shame, truly. But perhaps it’s not entirely for nothing.”

There’s red pustules cropping up over Floofty’s side. Like miniature Strabbys. Perhaps they’ll bud off, splitting from Floofty.

“You’ve noticed it as well. Don’t get your hopes up. It's an infection, plain and simple.” Floofty gives you a withering glare. “Surely even you understand.”

You offer to help with first aid. Since Floofty’s like a doctor, they can tell you what to do.

“Hmm. You really are obedient.” They shake their head, arms folded behind their back. “It’s no use. Snakification takes days, weeks even, to wear off. Until then, I will simply have to suffer in the pursuit of science.”

You point out they don’t have to suffer. There’s got to be something that would make it easier. And their work wouldn’t suffer as a result. 

“You make a good point. But I would prefer not to be touched. If you can fetch supplies, I am more than capable of caring for myself.”

You nod, opening your journal to take notes. 

“Obedient and with two braincells. More than I can say for most of the island.” Floofty clears their throat. “I require a medical kit. See if there’s anything usable in Lizbert and Eggabell’s hut. If not, I suppose we can make do with more...primitive methods.”

Lizbert and Eggabell’s hut, you jot down. Medical supplies. You add DIY and underline it twice with a question mark. 

“Do not mistake being my assistant as friendship,” Floofty sneers. But it’s that facade they put up. Maybe. Hopefully. “I ask because anyone else would be too horrified by my appearance.”

You nod. They mentioned witch hunts. Surely this isn’t the first science experiment gone awry.

“It isn’t,” Floofty answers. 

For a moment, you think they’ll elaborate. You even nod for them to do so. But Floofty glares at you.

Right. Medical supplies.

* * *

Those pustules aren't parts of a Strabby. Floofty's paws are precise, carving only enough of a sample to study.

You put a paw on their shoulder. It's a shame to watch them harm themself like this.

"It's not self-harm," Floofty scoffs. "That implies an intent to injure myself. If these aren't removed, then that would be a form of self-harm."

You nod, ready with the bandages. Maybe it's the scalpel or maybe it's how little Floofty reacts, but it's unsettling to watch.

Those little bits of pre-Strabby go on a metal tray. Collected samples. You ask if there's anything strange about them.

"When you are injured, what happens as a response?"

Blood, you say. Cuts and scrapes bleed.

"Correct. These...I hesitate to even call it a wound but these wounds do not bleed. What can you infer from that?"

Gauging by depth, these are Snakifying Floofty's body.

"Correct again. If we are what we eat, then what we eat becomes us in turn." The scalpel clatters onto the tray. "Do you know the difference between a parasite and a parasitoid?"

You don't.

"A parasitoid needs its host. Typically to feed its larvae." Floofty removes their goggles, rubbing a paw over their eyes. "These Snax seem to do the same, though we become the Snax. Do you understand?"

We're the host and the larvae.

"Precisely."

It's quiet except for the waves rolling along the beach. And Floofty's breathing. They sound...upset.

"Snorpington was right, I suppose. Dangerous methods and self-experimentation...This isn't like me."

You put a paw on their shoulder. Maybe it's the Snax, you suggest. They do seem to bring out the worst in every Grumpus.

"Comforting, but no." Floofty shrugs. "I take back what I said about your being an emotional parasite."

You ask if there's anything you can do, anything you can get them.

"Keep this moment of intimacy between us," Floofty warns. "And...don't worry Snorpington."

You nod. Keeping it all top secret.

Floofty's paw finds yours, holding it tight.

It's quiet, except the waves and Floofty's deep breaths. Maybe that's not such a bad thing.


End file.
